Songs for the Soul
by Sabia
Summary: When Giles and Willow become worried about Buffy's emotional state in S6, they take her to see Lorne in LA. Who should be there? Angelkins, of course.


Disclaimer: The Magic Box, Caritas, Buffy, Angel, and all the other characters belong to Joss Whedon, ME, and Goddess knows who else. The first song, White Flag, belongs to Dido, and the second, Angels, belongs to Robbie Williams.

Rating: G

Timeline: After All The Way in Buffy S6, and after Carpe Noctum S3 for Angel.

Pairing: Buffy/Angel

Author's Notes: This didn't turn out at all like I'd wanted it to, and it's a bit of a disappointment to me. Still, I really couldn't be bothered doing it all over again, so I've posted it. Let me know what you think. Spuffiers, I love S/B too. I just love B/A as well, and was in a B/A mood. Don't hate-mail me. Otherwise I might be forced to hunt you down with Willow's shovel (which she deserves a slap for, because she never did beat Riley up with it for hurting Buffy).

I might do a sequel if there's lots of clamouring for it, but I doubt there will be. We'll see. 

Thanks to my fabulistic beta idolsgirl, who is a complete angelo. 

***

Giles removed his glasses, polishing them furiously on the hem of his shirt. "I know, Willow. And I quite agree, something must be done. You believe that Buffy should see some sort of therapist?"

Willow bobbed her head, her red hair wafting out around her face. She pointed out, "But she can't go to a normal one. 'Cause, you know, she was in hell and all. 'Oh, hey, Mr. Psychiatrist. I was in agony for Goddess-knows-how-many years in a hell dimension, but my friend is a witch, so she pulled me out. I'm having trouble adjusting. Do you proscribe Prozac?' You know of any demony ones?"

"Well, I don't know any off the top of my head. Though if I remember correctly, last time Wesley updated me on the situation on LA, he mentioned an anagogic demon called Lorne. I believe that you sing for him, and he reads your aura, or receives premonitions or some such thing. It has the potential to be quite beneficial for Buffy. This 'Lorne' could perhaps give her some advice, point her in the right direction," Giles said thoughtfully.

Willow nodded again, and took a slurp from the cup of coffee sitting on a pile of leather-bound books. Seeing Giles notice it, she guiltily folded a piece of scrap paper in half to produce a make-shift coaster and plunked her mug on it. She knew he didn't really mind, but he'd be the one getting the blame if Anya spied the ring marks on the table in the Magic Box. Willow asked worriedly, "How are we going to get her there? She'll never agree to go on her own. She's been all distancy lately."

Giles winced. He muttered, "Well, I suppose we could tell her we need the information about a new demon we got wind of. And if this Lorne takes her aside afterwards to give her some personal advice, that's just an extra- a freesie, as you Americans called it."

Willow snickered. "Freebie, Giles, freebie. Okay, so I saw a big, squashy purple demon in Willie's that was drinking... drinking a strawberry milkshake with blood in it!"

Giles coughed politely. "Ahem, it may be better if we, er, selected an actual demon from a book for you to have seen. And perhaps you should see it out on the street on your way home?"

Willow, sighing consented, and went to call Xander. She filled him in, and he promised to tell the others. Then she called Buffy.

***

Buffy wrapped her arms around herself tightly as she waited neutrally for Giles to stop talking with the singing demon. She looked around; it probably had a lot of potential for future slayage, but she couldn't find it in her to care. What was the point? No matter what she did, people died, and people left her. Giles came up to her, taking her elbow kindly, and she plastered a shiny smile on her face, and lifted her voice until it almost squeaked with cheerfulness. "Ready, Giles? What do I have to do? The hokey-pokey?"

He smiled anxiously, and gently steered her towards the green, horned demon. He beamed welcomingly at her. "Well hey there, sugarplum. I hear your going to sing a little ditty for me. Just head on up to the stage when you're ready, petit pancake." 

She stared at him, summoning her will until her face was incredulous. "Did you just call me a little pancake? And what am I supposed to sing?"

He patted her shoulder. "Sing whatever you feel suits your mood. It needs to be appropriate, the song that you really think speaks about you, for me to get the best reading."

She nodded, and slowly meandered towards to stage, thinking dully about her choices. The Host said that it had to speak about what was truly on her mind, if she wanted to save the people being hunted by the demon Willow had told her about. But did she want to save them? Not really. She sighed a heaving sigh and inserted Dawnie into the victims' places. She forced herself to select the words to the right song, and lifted the microphone to her dry lips.

At the back of the club, Angel pushed his way through the crowd to Lorne. He had a funny feeling in his stomach. He wondered why. He spied Wesley, Gunn, Fred and Cordelia sitting at one of the small tables, their attention riveted to the stage. Someone good must be about to sing. He didn't care. He didn't even care that Cordelia had spotted him and was whispering frantically to Wesley. He'd almost reach the bar, where Lorne was comfortable lounging on one of the stools with... Giles? when he heard the first notes filter through the din, which instantly quieted for the sweet, melancholy voice.

"I know you think that I shouldn't still love you,  
I'll tell you that.   
But if I didn't say it,  
Well, I'd still have felt it,   
Where's the sense in that?   
  
I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder,   
Or return to where we were.  
  
Well I will go down with this ship,  
And I won't put my hands up and surrender. 

There will be no white flag above my door, 

I'm in love and always will be.   
  
I know I left too much mess,   
And destruction to come back again.   
And I caused but nothing but trouble,   
I understand if you can't talk to me again.   
And if you live by the rules of 'It's over'   
Then I'm sure that that makes sense   
  
Well I will go down with this ship,   
And I won't put my hands up and surrender.   
There will be no white flag above my door,  
I'm in love and always will be.  
  
And when we meet,   
As I'm sure we will,   
All that was then,   
Will be there still.   
I'll let it pass,   
And hold my tongue,   
And you will think,   
That I've moved on.  
  
Well I will go down with this ship,  
And I won't put my hands up and surrender.   
There will be no white flag above my door,   
I'm in love and always will be.  
  
Well I will go down with this ship,  
And I won't put my hands up and surrender.   
There will be no white flag above my door,   
I'm in love and always will be.  
  
I will go down with this ship,  
And I won't put my hands up and surrender. 

There will be no white flag above my door,   
I'm in love and always will be."

***

He couldn't breathe. It was times like this he really did appreciate being a vampire. He barely registered the AI team staring at him with open concern. He masked his face against them, as he staggered backwards until his back crashed into some demon's quills. He felt around with his hands until he found the bar, and leaned against it thankfully.

Cordelia rose decisively and went over to him, conscious of the Scoobies' eyes following her. She squeezed his hand, as she lead him back to their table. She determinedly ignored Willow's gasp, horrified and embarrassed for Buffy, and the reactions of the others, at the realization that Angel had heard Buffy singing. Angel didn't notice; his eyes travelled rapidly over his friends in thanks, and he gave a weak smile, but his attention was still on Bufy, whom Lorne had sat on the steps to the stage, and was talking to her.

"Honeycakes," he gently reprimanded, "You're not singing the song that sprang to your mind immediately, are you? I didn't get a completely clear reading."

When she didn't reply, he nodded kindly, and with a sympathetic twist of his lips, told her, "Sweets, you're going to have to sing again."

She only looked up at this, her eyes wide in weary horror. "No! No. Surely you got enough from that last song."

He hesitated, but shook his head finally, and lead her once again on to the stage. "Sing your heart out this time, gorgeous, and maybe you won't have to again."

She resumed her place behind the microphone, and with a heavy heart, picked out the song that had been lurking in the back of her mind. She reminded herself to change 'she' to 'he' and looked up at the wall above the bar. She listened to the opening bars as her mind drifted away.

***

Lorne slid easily on to the seat next to Giles, and, leaning over, murmured to him, "I got some stuff, but she'd going to have to sing again. She's missing someone that she still loves, but I guess you got that from the song. But that's not all I saw- or rather, didn't see. She's empty inside. Her heart, her mind, her soul, they're hollow. Like an abyss. It was awful, the worst thing I've ever seen. I just wanted to curl up and die. I don't know how she survives. It's amazing she hasn't- well, killed herself. Only that little cutie-pie of a girl is tying her to this world." He nodded towards Dawn. 

"And this person that she's missing. She lives for her love for him."

He settled back, preparing himself for Buffy's next song, and Giles felt winded. Why didn't he know this? What could have been so awful in hell that she was in this condition? He felt like crying, something he hadn't done in years. Why didn't she tell them? Why didn't she tell him? 

"What do you mean, empty?" he questioned quietly, leaning forwards intensely. "Tell me!"

Lorne glanced at him with worried red eyes, one eyebrow lifted in doubt. "I don't know if I can explain it, Watcherums. Usually when I read people I get little emotional flashes, of upset or joy or sadness or whatever the dumpling's feeling. But with our Slayer up there, she's just cold- and not just to her bones. It's in her heart, in her soul. She doesn't feel anything except the occasional prick of pain, and what felt like constant Antarctica." He shuddered. "Wish I could help you more, handsome. But I don't know what to do anymore than a pianist knows how to hack into the 'net."

He touched Giles' arm sympathetically and moved away. He was immediately accosted by what looked like goblins and was hauled towards the bar, leaving Giles to his thoughts. 

***

At the AI table, the gang were silent, until Gunn broke the quite by saying with awkward cheerfulness, "Well, this song is a bit happier. The introduction is a bit more optimistic, right, man?"

Cordelia's eyes grew bigger as she recognized the tune, and her gaze flickered to Angel, still hypnotized by the blonde waiting for the vocals to start. She warned them grimly, "Wait until you hear the lyrics."

Up on the stage, Buffy opened her mouth.

"I sit and wait  
Does an angel contemplate my faith?  
And do they know  
The places where we go  
When we're gray and old?  
'Cause I've been told  
That salvation lets their wings unfold  
So when I'm lying in my bed  
Thoughts running through my head  
And I feel the love is dead  
I'm loving angels instead."

Angel felt his dead heart contract, and his breath came in unnatural, irregular gasps. He never let his gaze waver from her. She was wearing a simple white cheesecloth wraparound dress, and the silver cross he'd given her was at her throat. She still had it. After all these years, all this time, and all those trials, she still had it. Her hair was loose and wavy, the golden curls resting gently on her slim shoulders. Her eyes were a mossy, glimmering green. She didn't seem to be aware of the audience; she was looking dreamily at the blank wall, her face drawn and pale. She had an air of vulnerability about her, like she was very fragile. Angel had never seen her like this, and didn't want to ever again, especially now he'd heard the lyrics to that song.  
  
"And through it all he offers me protection  
A lot of love and affection  
Whether I'm right or wrong  
And down the waterfall  
Wherever it may take me  
I know that life won't break me  
When I come to call   
He won't forsake me  
I'm loving angels instead  
  
When I'm feeling weak  
And my pain walks down a one way street  
I look above  
And I know I'll always be blessed with love  
And as the feeling grows  
He breathes flesh to my bones  
And when love is dead  
I'm loving angels instead  
  
And through it all he offers me protection  
A lot of love and affection  
Whether I'm right or wrong  
And down the waterfall  
Wherever it may take me  
I know that life won't break me  
When I come to call   
He won't forsake me  
I'm loving angels instead  
  
And through it all he offers me protection  
A lot of love and affection  
Whether I'm right or wrong  
And down the waterfall  
Wherever it may take me  
I know that life won't break me  
When I come to call   
He won't forsake me  
I'm loving angels instead"

She finished, and stood there looking young and helpless and innocent and somehow womanly at the same time. Angel couldn't help himself. With preternatural silence, he bounded out of his seat and onto the stage. He swept up the petite woman in his arms, in a grip so tight she must have been crushed, and pressed his lips to hers hungrily. His hands wound into her golden locks, and her hands found their way to his face, grasping his smooth, cold cheeks gratefully. The kiss was primal and desperate and needed so badly.

Caritas and its occupants watched on in silence.


End file.
